


Chiasmus

by spectre_tabris



Series: hit me double hard au [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Meet-Cute, Yes i wrote an au of my own au, and i regret none of it, and it is nothing but 5000 words of ridiculousness, background dorian pavus/male lavellan, bookshop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectre_tabris/pseuds/spectre_tabris
Summary: chi·as·mus: noun, a rhetorical or literary figure in which words, grammatical constructions, or concepts are repeated in reverse order, in the same or a modified formaka the bookshop AU that nobody asked for but I wrote anyway.(Though this is listed as part of the hit me double hard universe, it is entirely a standalone and no prior knowledge of the AU is needed.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay look. I mostly just wanted to write a modern Kyra Lavellan who never lost her brother and suddenly this happened and I don't even know anymore. It's a bookshop AU-of-an-AU meet-cute, what more do you want from me?
> 
> And look, I just managed to get it out before the end of Femslash February!

Kyra Lavellan has no idea what possessed her brother and his husband to abandon academia in favor of opening up a used bookstore, but the change seems to have been good for the both of them. These days Dorian spends fewer evenings working his way through their extensive wine cellar while Rion has lost the dark shadows under his eyes left behind by stress and sleep deprivation. The one downside Kyra has found with this new state of affairs is that on occasion she will be called upon to help them cover the store when they are understaffed.

Or when Rion wants to treat his husband to a romantic dinner date.

“You have employees for this, you realize,” she points out as Rion pulls his jacket on over his broad shoulders. It is a moot point by now: anyone he might call to cover for him would not arrive in time for him to make his reservations, a fact Kyra knows all too well. That’s not the point, though - it’s the principle of the thing.

Rion just grins at her, a wicked twist of his lips that is damnably familiar. “Sera has rehearsal and Cole is volunteering at the VFA tonight. I mean, I could _probably_ call him in, if I really need to...”

With an irritated huff, Kyra throws a book at his head.

“You’re an ass, brother-mine,” she snaps: she had already agreed to help him - the guilt trip is just uncalled for. Rion catches the book before it hits him, which she is convinced merely proves her point, and sets it down on the front counter.

“I love you, too, sister-mine,” he calls back to her with a too-cheerful wave before he disappears into the back office to collect Dorian.

Kyra drops down into the chair behind the register with an irritated groan, surveying the empty store. Were she actually an employee - or a decent sister - she would use the time to restock or straighten the shelves or some other useful task. But she is neither of those things and so instead she coaxes the ancient computer into opening her Google Drive. She might as well make the most of her time stuck here.

The first fifteen minutes after Rion’s departure pass by with only a single customer, one who spends five minutes browsing the shelves before leaving empty handed. Just as Kyra starts to settle into the thankless task of organizing her team’s notes into something resembling order, the bell over the shop’s door alerts her to the arrival of her second customer of the evening.

Kyra tries not to grumble - for all that she takes great enjoyment in heckling her brother, she does not want to drive his customers away by being, well, herself - as she looks up from the computer screen, only to stop mid-motion when she sees who just walked through the door.

The thing is, Kyra very much has a type and the woman in the doorway is pretty much the personification of it. Tall and solid, she is strong-featured with a firmness to her mouth that speaks of a stubbornness softened by the quiet kindness of her eyes. The overall effect adds up to a fierce kind of gorgeousness and for a long moment Kyra can do nothing but stare. Her usual greeting to customers tangles in her throat: when the woman turns that sharp gaze her way, all that emerges is a muffled squeak.

Well. That’s a bit humiliating. She does her best to turn the noise into a cough, wrangling her hormones back under control as best she can. As she does that, Tall Dark and Gorgeous regards her with an expression that hovers somewhere between confused and concerned.

“You are not Rion,” she says in a voice that Kyra is going to hear in her dreams for _weeks_ and oh, Creators, this is ridiculous. Maybe Rion is right - if Kyra is getting this flustered just by the presence of an attractive woman, it has probably been too long since she has gotten a date. But that is something she can worry about later, when she is not solely responsible for the shop that is the closest thing to a child her brother might ever have.

Instead of dwelling on it, Kyra shoots the woman a crooked grin that only afterward does she realize is a shade more flirtatious than intended. She bites back a wince as she schools her expression back into something a little more appropriate: she doubts that flirting with Rion’s customers is the most professional move ever. Though if this woman knows Rion well enough to ask after him by name, at least Kyra doesn’t have to worry about accidentally provoking some kind of angry homophobia-induced response.

“Guilty as charged,” she chirps, discarding the entire train of thought as irrelevant, at least for the moment. “I’m his sister, Kyra. He couldn’t make it so I’m filling in for a bit.”

That just makes the woman frown and Kyra has a moment of panic that she has said the wrong thing. Though what part of her statement could be considered “wrong” she cannot begin to fathom: it had sounded innocuous enough to her.

“Is he all right?” the woman asks, a note of genuine concern threaded through the words. Kyra’s eyes widen as comprehension dawns and she rushes to clarify.

“Oh, no, he’s fine! He’s just off having dinner. He’ll be back around eight or so if you need to talk to him about something, or I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“There is no need,” the woman assures her, holding up a hand as though to physically stop Kyra from doing anything of the sort. “I was merely surprised - he is usually here when I arrive.”

And isn’t _that_ interesting information. Kyra regards her carefully, more suspicious than appreciative this time. A suspicion that has nothing to do with her customer and everything to do with her manipulative shithead of a brother: Kyra feels like she knows Rion better than she knows herself some days and the woman’s words have set off a cacophony of little warning bells in her head.

“You’re a regular, I take it?” she asks, her internal monologue something more along the lines of _I’m going to kill him; I’m gonna_ kill _him._

The woman shrugs, the hint of a blush dusting the sharp line of her cheekbones. It is possibly the most adorable thing Kyra has ever seen and oh, look, the attraction is back. She had wondered where that had run off to.

“Rion is...very good at tracking down books for me,” she says, which while not a yes is close enough for Kyra.

“It’s sort of his job,” she agrees with an easy shrug. Though it won’t be for much longer, not once she gets her hands on him. “Did he have something for you to pick up?”

“He did. I told him I would be by this evening and he assured me that there would be no problem with that.”

“Of course he did.” Suspicion crystallizes into certainty in Kyra’s mind. Rion’s last-minute dinner plans, organized too late to arrange for one of his employees to pick up the shift; his insistence on the time and the date when Dorian would have been happy to reschedule; his single-minded determination to get Kyra to cover for him to the point of begging and promising gratuitous amounts of her favorite chocolates in return. Conversations held over the last few weeks trickle back into Kyra’s consciousness and she forgoes dignity in favor of burying her face in her hands with a whine.

“I have what might construed as an awkward question,” she says, the words somewhat muffled by her hands. “And if the answer is no please do me a favor and pretend none of this happened. Your name wouldn’t happen to be Cassandra, would it?”

She picks her head up just in time to see the woman’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Are there that few special orders?” she asks and Kyra curses.

“Haven’t even looked at them, to be honest,” she admits, one hand reaching into her pocket for her cell phone.

“Then how...” The woman - Cassandra, this is _Cassandra_ , of course it is, Rion is going to _pay_ for this - trails off as Kyra huffs out a laugh.

“You’re kind of his favorite.” She has no qualms about spilling all her jackass brother’s secrets, not after the stunt she is now confident he has pulled. “Probably because every time your name is mentioned Dorian’s nose does this irritated scrunchy thing that Rion thinks is adorable.”

If anything, this only seems to confuse Cassandra further. “How do you know that?”

Kyra wrinkles her own nose in a motion near-identical to the one her best friend often employs, her fingers flying across her phone screen as she types out a text. “Drunk Rion has no filter. It’s awful. The things he tells me while drunk have scarred me for life. One of these days I’ll figure how how to force him to pay my therapy bills. What’s a good synonym for ‘eviscerate’?”

The abrupt subject change pulls a startled frown from Cassandra and though Kyra can tell she has more questions she seems willing enough to play along for the moment. Which is a good thing, considering Kyra doesn’t really have an answer beyond “my brother has spent the last two months trying to talk me into coming by the shop while you were here because he is a ridiculous matchmaker who thinks we’d make a cute couple and now I’m pretty sure he arranged this entire thing because I kept saying no.” She has a feeling that would count as a little too much honesty.

“What is wrong with eviscerate?”

“Already used it. Twice.”

“You - what are you _doing_?” The scandalized note in Cassandra’s voice drags Kyra’s attention from her phone, a guilty flush suffusing her cheeks. Oh, right. She’s being weird again, isn’t she?

“Ah, sorry. Just...expressing sisterly affection via threats of grievous bodily harm.”

Her words do not appear to comfort Cassandra in the slightest, which is fair enough. After a hurried moment spent sending the message off to its intended destination, Kyra tucks her phone away and attempts a reassuring smile. “I’ll go and grab your order. Be right back.”

She dashes away from the desk before Cassandra can respond, ducking into the back office in search of the shelf of special orders. The area is carefully organized (Dorian’s doing, Kyra knows: Rion is just as much of a disorganized mess as Kyra herself) and it takes her less than a minute to track down the rubber-band-bound stack of books labelled with Cassandra’s name in Rion’s careless scribbles. She grabs it without bothering to glance at the contents, tucking it under her arm to take back out to the main room.

“Found it!” she announces as the office door swings shut behind her, the package held aloft in triumph. Cassandra arches an eyebrow at her from where she has moved over to browse the “New Arrivals” display, reluctant amusement curling the corners of her mouth. The books land on the front counter with a thunk and Kyra shoots her a grin, her earlier affront, if not forgotten, at least set aside until she could take her ire out on Rion himself instead of an innocent bystander.

“Hey, the outcome was not guaranteed. You never know what deadly beast could have been lurking back there.”

That earns her a thoughtful hum from Cassandra as the woman’s eyebrow inches ever higher. “Do you often have trouble with such things?”

Kyra pretends to consider the question, tapping her chin with one finger. “What answer will get Rion in the most trouble, do you think?” she asks, letting a thread of malicious glee slip into her voice. Cassandra just shakes her head with a quiet huff of breath that could be either a laugh or a sigh (for the sake of flattering her ego, Kyra chooses to believe it was the former), not playing into Kyra’s ridiculousness but not discouraging it either.

“Anyway,” Kyra says in an attempt to change the subject before it can devolve any further into insensibility. “I can hold your books up here if you’d like to browse a bit longer.” Judging by the way Cassandra’s fingers linger on the spines of the books in front of her like she can’t quite bring herself to pull away, Kyra thinks she can guess the answer. The unconscious gesture is oddly endearing and Kyra has to bite her lip to suppress a smile that is a little too smitten to be professional. She always has had a weakness for book lovers.

“Thank you.” There is a sincerity to the way Cassandra says that, so unlike the usual rote response that Kyra loses the battle against her grin. Cassandra’s answering smile is small, almost secretive, a hesitant little curl of her lips, and oh, Kyra is in trouble.

She tears her eyes away from Cassandra’s with an awkward cough, returning her focus to the project in front of her. Maybe if she distracts herself with work she can keep from staring at Cassandra like a creeper.

While that is a solid plan in theory, it proves to be somewhat less so in practice. No matter how Kyra tries to keep her attention on her notes, she finds her eyes wandering over to her customer with a distressing regularity, brief little glances to take in the way Cassandra’s eyes widen when she finds a title she likes or the way she bites at her lip when she reads the back of one of the shop’s racier selections. The only thing that keeps Kyra from feeling like an utter letch is the fact that more than once over the course of the next twenty minutes, she looks over at Cassandra to see Cassandra’s attention not on the books in front of her but on Kyra herself. As soon as their eyes meet Cassandra always snaps her gaze back to the shelf before her, a faint flush on her cheeks the only sign that Kyra did not imagine the entire thing.

Are they flirting? Does this count as flirting? Kyra has no idea and can’t quite figure out how to ask. How do normal people do this?

The next time she catches Cassandra looking at her, rather than allow her to pretend it didn’t happen Kyra cocks her head to the side with a smirk.

“Do I have something on my face?” she teases, watching in delight as Cassandra’s blush deepens from a light pink to tomato red.

“What? No!” Cassandra’s eyes widen in horror and Kyra wonders if it is possible to die of over-exposure to unfairly attractive women. She suspects she is about to find out. “I was just wondering what you were working on.”

Wow. And here Kyra had thought _she_ was a terrible liar. Her smirk morphs into a full-fledged grin.

“Is that so?” she drawls, injecting just enough disbelief into her tone to make her point. “In that case, I’m collating observational data. It’s every bit as thrilling as it sounds, I assure you.”

“I see...” Cassandra says in that way people have that means they have no idea but are hesitant to ask for clarification, and Kyra chuckles.

“I work in the university astro lab and I’m taking the disorganized mess of numbers the team lead gave me and trying to turn it into something we can actually work with.”

This time Cassandra’s quiet noise of understanding seems genuine and she turns away from the bookshelf to face Kyra fully, a spark of interest in her eyes. In Kyra’s experience, though, that interest does not last beyond the first few minutes of a conversation about her work (astrophysics is far less exciting than people expect it to be), so rather than bore Cassandra with details and risk driving her away Kyra opts to turn the question around. Not that she is desperate for any information about Cassandra she can get her hands on or anything.

“What about you?”

The question draws a smirk from Cassandra and it is probably a good thing that Kyra is standing behind a desk just then to conceal the way the expression makes her knees wobble. That is...way hotter than it has any right to be. Damn.

Instead of answering Cassandra just pulls the front panel of her suit jacket to one side, drawing Kyra’s gaze down to her hips. (They are very nice hips, but Kyra knew that much already. Not that she has been ogling or anything; it’s just that Cassandra’s business suit is well-tailored and okay maybe she was ogling. A little. She is a weak, weak woman.) The flash of gold clipped to Cassandra’s belt keeps Kyra from being properly appreciative, however, and a whine of despair slips from her as their earlier conversation replays in her mind in vivid detail.

“Shit.”

She doesn’t know what expression she is wearing - some combination of horror and embarrassment, she suspects, her face burning - but whatever it is pulls a genuine laugh from Cassandra, short and sharp, and Kyra decides that hearing that sound is more than worth a little mortification on her part.

Still, some clarification is called for before she drives herself into a panic.

“Just to be clear, all my comments earlier about death and dismemberment? I swear I was joking. Please don’t arrest me.”

Cassandra shakes her head as she approaches the register, two more books tucked under her arm, but the way the corner of her mouth keeps twitching as she fights off a smile belies her attempt at solemnity.

“You are safe: I left my handcuffs at the office,” she says, then blinks in shock, like she can’t quite believe the words that just came out of her mouth. And honestly, with a setup like that it would take a stronger woman than Kyra to resist. Her smile sharpens into something a little wicked.

“Too bad. Could have been fun.”

She can see the exact moment Cassandra realizes what Kyra has said, all the implications therein: she stumbles, her usual grace forsaking her in her shock and if Kyra had thought the blush earlier impressive it has nothing on the bloom of color that floods Cassandra’s entire face now, from the bridge of her nose down her cheeks to disappear beneath the collar of her shirt. Kyra itches to know just how far down that blush spreads.

“I - that was _not_ what I...” For all the vehemence in Cassandra’s voice, she does not seem to quite know how she wants to end that. Her ensuing look of horrified embarrassment causes Kyra to burst into a fit of giggles that she tries - ineffectively - to muffle with a hand pressed over her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she manages to get out, breathless with stifled laughter. “I’m sorry; that was a terrible joke. It’s just - the look on your _face_.”

Cassandra’s nose wrinkles like she isn’t certain how to take that and Kyra waves a hand as though to chase the topic away.

“Don’t worry about it.” When it looks like Cassandra is about to argue Kyra darts a hand out to pluck the books from her grasp and add them to the stack of her special order. (It takes more willpower than Kyra cares to admit not to let her fingers brush against Cassandra’s as she does so - as much as she is desperate to see if her skin is as soft as it looks and her teasing comments aside, she does not truly want to make Cassandra uncomfortable. And while it _seems_ like she does not mind Kyra’s amateurish attempts at flirting, Kyra does not want to cross some sort of line.) In search of a change of subject, she glances down at the books Cassandra has chosen.

Her eyes widen at the romance serial on top of the pile. Well. That’s certainly an unexpected selection. She looks at up at Cassandra only to see her watching Kyra, mouth a stern line and eyes almost daring her to comment. And that is a challenge Kyra is only too happy to accept.

“Have you read the rest of the series?” she asks with a crooked grin, delighting in the way Cassandra’s fierce expression melts into a startled sort of intrigue.

“I have,” she says slowly, like she is waiting for the punchline.

Kyra’s grin widens. “So, Evellyne or Maricelle?”

“You’ve read them?” Intrigue shifts to hesitant interest and honestly it should be illegal for someone who looks like she could get into a fistfight with a bear and win to look that adorable.

“You tell Rion about this and I will deny it to my dying day,” she warns and Cassandra chuckles, low and lovely.

“He will hear nothing from me,” she promises. “And though I can certainly see why someone might prefer Evellyne, I will admit to a particular fondness for Maricelle.”

“Right?” Kyra leans forward, forearms braced on the counter, unable to keep the smile from her face. It has been far too long since she has been able to properly gush about these books - as terrible as they are (and oh, are they _terrible_ : there is a reason she refuses to let Rion know she has read them) she does adore them, cliches, purple prose, and all. The fact that her conversational partner is Cassandra just makes it that much better. “I mean, Evellyne is wonderful and all but there’s something kind of terrifyingly badass about Maricelle’s sheer stubbornness and the way everyone always underestimates her right up until the moment she utterly demolishes them. No one ever seems to see her coming and I love how she takes advantage of that.”

Cassandra nods, a spark in her eye. “Yes, exactly! And the way the author manages to weave the various interpersonal relationships into the mystery plot - he is quite skilled.”

That draws a despairing groan from Kyra as she lets her head fall forward to thunk against the countertop.

“No. Oh, Cassandra, no. He’s _awful_. Please tell me you recognize that, at least. The books are dreck and the author a hack who panders to the lowest common denominator. I mean, they’re disgustingly addictive and I love them to distraction, but they are far from pinnacles of literature.”

Cassandra’s brow wrinkles in distress and Kyra bites at her lower lip as she waits to see how Cassandra will react to her declaration. Judging by the way her mouth purses and she leans forward into Kyra’s space, palms flat on the counter to support her, she does not agree with Kyra’s assessment and Kyra is perhaps looking forward to whatever argument she is about to make a little too much.

She loses track of time after that, too distracted arguing with Cassandra about books and authors and the relative skill levels of the latter to pay attention to anything else. At some point between debating whether Lisette’s betrayal counts as character development or a ham-handed attempt at creating personal drama for Evellyne and good-natured bickering over who Maricelle should have ended up with, Kyra does manage to get Cassandra’s books rung up and the transaction processed, but even then Cassandra seems in no hurry to leave and Kyra has no desire to try to make her.

It is not until Kyra hears the sound of the shop’s rear door creak open as Rion and Dorian return from dinner that she realizes just how long they have been standing there talking. She can see the moment that same thought occurs to Cassandra: her eyes widen and she lets out a quiet sound of surprise when she glances at the watch on her wrist.

“Oh, Maker. It is nearly eight thirty.”

Kyra laughs, an awkward little breath of a sound. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you here so long.”

Cassandra shakes her head as she reaches for the books stacked on the counter, suddenly unable to meet Kyra’s eyes.

“No, I should be the one to apologize. I have been distracting you from your work.”

This time Kyra’s laugh is far more genuine. “If so, it was a very welcome distraction,” she admits, ducking her head to hide her blush. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Cassandra’s answering smile, soft and hesitant.

Rion and Dorian’s voices float out from the back room, too muffled to make out, and Kyra estimates that she has a few minutes at most before Rion comes out to relieve her. She glances over at Cassandra through the curtain of her hair and gives a mental “Ah, fuck it.” What’s the worst that could happen?

“All right, so if I’ve been misreading this whole thing then I’m really sorry in advance and please never mention it to Rion, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get dinner sometime.”

Cassandra raises one eyebrow and despite the redness of her cheeks she seems far calmer than Kyra feels. Kyra’s heart feels like it is trying to break free of her ribs, a concentrated force of will the only thing keeping her from wringing her hands together and announcing her nerves to the world. Or at least to Cassandra, who is the only person who really counts right now anyway.

“Are you asking me out?” Cassandra asks, confusion and hesitance clear in her voice. Kyra gives an uncomfortable shrug. This is not going quite like she had hoped, though Cassandra has not started yelling at her or running for the door so she supposes it could be worse.

“Yes?” Despite her best efforts it still comes out closer to a question than an answer. “I mean, no pressure or anything if you’re not interested. I just thought -”

Cassandra cuts her off before she can embarrass herself any further. “I...yes. I would like that.”

For all that Kyra had been fairly certain that the flirting over the last few hours had not been entirely one-sided, Cassandra’s answer still takes her by surprise. She blinks a few times as she processes it before she bursts into a wide smile.

“Oh. Good. Excellent. I mean.” She is babbling, she realizes, and cuts herself off. Shaking her head in a vain attempt to clear it, she grabs a scrap of paper and a pen from the desk drawer. It is the work of a moment to scribble down her name and phone number and she tucks the scrap into one of the books in the center of Cassandra’s pile, where it would not fall out or get blown away. “Here. Call me when you’re free?”

“I will,” Cassandra says, fingers brushing over the edges of the paper still poking out from her books, and the words ring with promise. They stand there for a long moment, a mess of blushing and smiling, before Cassandra clears her throat. “I should get going.”

Kyra hopes she is not imagining the reluctance in Cassandra’s voice, a hope supported by the way that even after saying that she continues to linger by the counter like she can’t quite bring herself to leave.

“Yeah,” Kyra agrees with that same marked reluctance. “I should see what’s taking Rion so long anyway. I’ll talk to you later?”

“I - yes.”

With that Cassandra finally makes her way to the door, Kyra’s eyes on her as she walks away. When she reaches the exit she glances back at Kyra who, despite the dark blush that stains her cheeks at the realization that she has been caught staring, just quirks an eyebrow, unrepentant. Cassandra’s answering laugh lingers in the air even as the front door swings shut behind her.

Rion chooses that moment to burst through the office door and Kyra quickly schools her expression into something a little less smitten and a little more disinterested. He bounds over to where she still stands at the register, wicked smirk firmly in place.

“Sister-mine, how was your evening?”

Any suspicions Kyra may still have harbored as to whether or not he had planned this entire thing vanish at the smug confidence in his voice. Rather than give him the satisfaction of being proven right - he would be _insufferable_ if he knew - she forces herself to shrug, a bored roll of her shoulders.

“Eh,” she says, keeping the lingering giddiness from her interaction with Cassandra under control. “Got some work done. Nothing too special. Have a nice dinner?”

It is almost comical to watch the way Rion’s entire face falls at her words, confusion sneaking in to replace confidence. Kyra has to bite the inside of her cheek to hide a vindictive smile: while she knows it will not last long, she intends to leave him in the dark for as long as she can manage, both as recompense for manipulating her and an attempt to preserve her own privacy.

Besides, there is far too much entertainment to be found in messing with her brother for her to pass up on such a golden opportunity. She will tell him the truth. Eventually.


End file.
